See
by idreamof
Summary: A fluffy, plotless little scene between a young Arthur and Morgana. Morgana is told to try to make friends with the young prince.


AN: I think I read somewhere Morgana was a year or two older than Arthur…sooo, yeah I'm messing with ages, as always. I probably won't even be consistent between my own stories. Arthur's four-ish, Morgana's eight-ish.

"Prince Arthur?" Gelsey knelt next to the little boy where he was sprawled out on a rug with an open book in front of him. Do you remember Morgana? She's come to visit! She's been here before, but you might've been too little…"

"M'not little."

Gelsey fought back a grin, bowing her head. "Of course, sire. My apologies, sire. Now, I'll leave you be. Would you like anything?"

"No. Thank you," Arthur replied, turning back to his book, his finger tracing the ink spine of a golden dragon before moving to the red-cloaked knight brandishing his gleaming sword, bearing the Pendragon crest. He turned his eyes to the words, his blond brows creasing together slightly in concentration at some of the longer ones.

The nursemaid smiled, dipped her head and retreated out the door. "Just call if you need me, sire, my lady." As the door shut behind her, Morgana turned to the little blond boy sitting on the floor, a large book laid out in front of him.

"You can read?" She asked, slightly sarcastically. Arthur looked up, a frown marring his tiny brow.

"Yes. Geoffrey teaches me. Every day."

"Hm," the girl replied noncommittally. Arthur looked at her tentatively.

"D'you want to see? We can share. There's lots of pictures – Geoffrey draws them. Gelsey, that's my nursemaids, she can't read much so I read to her, but Mildred can. Gaius comes and reads to me sometimes too. He has grand books about knights and castles and I like books, especially when there's lots of colo-"

"D'you ever shut up? I don't want to read your stupid book," Morgana towered over the little boy haughtily, and Arthur's bright blue eyes turned sad and filled with tears. He quickly looked back down at his book, determined to ignore the girl. He didn't quite remember her, even though Gelsey had said that he'd met her before, but somehow her long, dark hair was familiar. He decided that he didn't like her, though. She was mean, and she didn't like his books, and she'd yelled at him.

Morgana, however, couldn't help but feel a little sorry when the boy turned away from her, clearly upset. She hadn't wanted to come on this trip, and she hadn't wanted to be sent away from the adult table to play with some silly little prince. She remembered the last time she had been forced to stay with him when they'd come to visit, and he had cried and cried. She'd huffed at the nursemaid's profuse apologies, that the prince was very young, and that he'd recently gotten over a chill and that he might be a little fussy. She'd begged her father to leave, but he'd been insistent that she make friends with the young prince. She'd thought that ridiculous, as the prince had been only two and she a girl of seven whole years, and what good was a baby for a friend. She'd told her horrified father so right in front of the King, but the King had only laughed, and she'd been all the more affronted for it. She was now almost _nine_, even older, so surely this whole thing was just as ridiculous as it had been, perhaps even more. But the prince was older too, her father had reminded her on their way to the castle.

Now, though, looking at him, he looked so sad, and he was still so very little that she thought that maybe it wasn't his fault that he was so silly. She could be the grownup. The nursemaid was out of sight, so for that moment, she decided, she _would_ be the grown up. A proper lady conducts herself with grace and poise and manners and she most definitely does _not_ call anything _stupid_. She straightened her shoulders. "Here," she tried again, her tone softer, wishing he would stop crying, "I'm sorry. I really do want to look at your book with you." She sat down next to the boy, but he still ignored her, sniffling quietly. "It's a very nice book." Still no response. "The colours are very nice too. Look!" She pointed at the lake on the page. "It's the exact same colour as your eyes. My eyes are green. See, green like those trees," she pointed to the book again. She could tell that the boy was wavering, obviously trying very hard not to look at her. And then she remembered something very exciting: "My nursemaid has two different coloured eyes! One's blue and one's green!" If that didn't get him, she thought, nothing would.

Sure enough, he couldn't help but turn to look at her, eyes wide with curiosity. "Really?"

"Yes," she nodded. "It's true. Maybe you'll meet her." Arthur gave her a tentative smile, all rosy cheeks and bright eyes and Morgana couldn't help but grin back. "Now then," she said suddenly, turning towards the brightly coloured storybook, "I do believe you said you'd read to me."

Arthur looked at her curiously. "Can you read?"

"Of _course_, st…silly," she corrected herself. When she saw that he'd started to look a little sullen again she tried what she hoped was a reassuring, mature smile. "But I bet you can do it better. Can you show me?"

The young prince looked at her calculatingly, and for a moment she thought he might refuse, but then he seemed to come to a decision, and he turned back to his book, pushing himself up to sit and moving it slightly over so that it was between them.

"I was already halfway through, but I'll start at the beginning because it's no fun if you don't start at the beginning." He looked up at her again, questioningly, and maybe a little nervously, she thought, so she smiled reassuringly at him.

"I agree. Starting again is a very good idea."

Arthur nodded and flipped back to the first page.

"Once, in a great land in Albion…"

The pictures were very beautiful, she thought to herself, and the prince's young voice was filled with eagerness and excitement as he read, making sure to point out and describe every single picture. He seemed to have an endless stream of commentary for every page, and she couldn't help but get caught up in his energy.

Maybe the little boy wasn't entirely awful.


End file.
